"This story is true. I give it as it is, with embellishments." This sentence, the keystone of A Woman Escapes , is by Audrey Benac and diverts the famous opening line of Robert Bresson's A Man Escaped. Sofia Bohdanowicz's alter ego, lonely and grieving, Audrey wanders through the Parisian apartment of her recently deceased friend Juliane. Over views of Istanbul, Burak's deep voice evokes a package received by mistake, intended for Audrey/Sofia, sent by a certain Blake: a small 3D camera. Images of the young woman on a bus speeding through the landscape then mark the beginning, not only of a correspondence, but of a film that makes circulation – images, sounds, dreams – its driving force. The voices of the three characters mingle with the interlacing of stereoscopic views, 16mm film grain, and 4K images, in an exchange articulated according to the motif of braiding – like the challah cooked by Audrey. As announced in the opening, A Woman Escapes abandons Bressonian austerity and fully embraces the ornaments of its fiction – detours and artifices, profusion of images and colors. Quotation and reuse are the logic of staging this palimpsest film, as seems to be illustrated by the first letter sent by Blake to Audrey, which describes Nam June Paik's Zen for Film , a work in constant reinvention as alterations and dust accumulate on a blank film. Cards that range from blue to red (the colors of 3D glasses) through a whole range of magentas, from the first images showing Juliane's gestures to the last, where these same gestures are repeated by Audrey, A Woman Escapes draws a trajectory that seems to make cinema a manifesto for healing.